Sanity is a lie
by raspberryroux
Summary: The Lars were dead. Obi-Wan raised Luke on Tatooine while dealing with his demons.
1. Chapter 1

TRIGGER WARNING

This story contains potentially disturbing content such as eating disorders, self-harm, PTSD, suicidal thought. If you're easily triggered, please don't read this.

* * *

The Lars were dead. The local said they died in a Tusken Raiders raid. Obi-Wan wasn't surprised. The universe had been cruel lately.

_Mindless creatures,_ that's what Anakin used to call them.

_Anakin_... No. Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't think- It didn't work. No matter how much he told himself, how hard he tried; he couldn't. His mind kept flitting back to Mustafar. To the body burning by the sea of lava. '_I hate you_' resonated in his head. It was too much for his psyche though he was powerless to stop it.

Memories continued to assault him. The hold on him only broke when Luke cried, probably sensing his distress in the Force.

"Shh. It's all right, young one," he whispered to Luke. "Everything is alright."

Obi-Wan wished he could believe it to be true.

Luke was asleep and demons came.

No, they were always there, residing in the pit of his soul, waiting for the right opportunity. They made themself known every time he closed eyes, bringing him nightmares and unwanted memories. They told him he would fail Luke as he did Anakin. He was a horrible mentor, a horrible friend. He would never be good enough.

And Obi-Wan agreed with them. If he had been more experienced, he would have guided Anakin better. If he hadn't brushed Dooku's words off, they would have found out Palpatine was the Sith lord. If he had been more observative, he would have noticed Anakin's turmoil after each meeting with the Chancellor.

It was his fault. Obi-Wan was not arrogant as to think all of it was, but a huge part was his failing.

He was guilty and his demons agreed with him.

A part of Obi-Wan-the one that was rational Jedi Master-was aware that this wasn't right. The rest of him ignored it. He was so tired of fighting, especially with himself. He had spent so many years doing so. Maybe it's time to stop.

_So weak, pathetic_. His demons spat.

The taunt made him reach out to the Force to release his emotions to it. It was a futile attempt, like a tired wanderer trying to reach a mirage of oasis. The Force eluded him yet again.

_You are worthless. Even the Force abandons you._

It was like a blaster shot to his gut. All his life, he was taught that the Force was a Jedi's ally, even in the most desperate hour. The Force was what gave a Jedi his power. Except the Force was not with him anymore.

_You are nothing_. Demons were not whispering in his ears anymore. They were shouting, demanding his full attention.

Too loud. They were too loud.

"Shut up. Just shut up." They didn't. "There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force."

The Code brought him no peace. It didn't stop the voice. Obi-Wan had felt like this before, in weeks following Qui-Gon's death. He remembered that meditation helped. Sinking into the Force with someone to ground him gave him reprieve from his demons. Even then, it hadn't been easy. He hadn't escaped unscratched. His fingers twitched at the thought, trailing ridges on his skin under the sleeve of his tunic.

Obi-Wan shivered as fingertips brushed past each of them. It was sickening how fast the voice quieted down.

_Cut it. Just one cut. We will go away_. They pleaded in a hushed voice that was siren song.

It would be so easy to just give in. No, no, no. He couldn't. He remembered their broken promises. Demons would go away, just for a moment, before they came back with even more of their friends. Then he would cut again, and the cycle would continue.

Obi-Wan couldn't fall. There was no one to drag him up this time. Yet there was no one here to stop him. His logical brain told him to stop. His legs had a mind of their own. They led him to the medkit. His hands dug inside and brought him a scalpel.

_That's it. Not hard huh?_

Obi-Wan studied it. The durasteel blade gleamed in dim light.

_So sharp, isn't it? Imagine how good it feels pressing on your skin._

His breath quickened as the edge of self-control started to fray. He couldn't do this. He wanted to scream, but he was afraid of waking Luke so he settled on biting his lips instead.

It was a mistake. He must have bitten too hard. Metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, flooding his sense.

_Do it. The blade is your friend, your salvation._

He did. The cut was shallow a thin line of ruby on white.

Bile was bitter at the back of his throat. He felt sick, the way he did on Geonosis, with the knowledge that the first blood was spilt. There would be many more to come.

_Good. One more. Just a little deeper. _The voice purred like a satisfied cat.

Tiny prick of pain came, chasing away the mental one. It was grostequely calming, a parody of meditation.

Blood didn't immediately rise to meet the blade. It liked to wait before coming up.

Fascinating.

It was easy to get lost in it. Far too easy.

Obi-Wan made 11 cuts in total, one for each year of Anakin being his Padawan. He didn't bother to put on Bacta. He just wiped away blood and made sure the bleeding stop so he wouldn't stain anything.

Lying on the hard mattress, he felt numb. Except for the dull throbbing on his arms. It was a good kind of numb, one that freed him from himself and harsh reality.

Obi-Wan could picture the cuts in his mind, a tidy row of red lines. He took care to make them parrarel and with equal space between each other. The cut started shallow on his wrist, getting deeper as it neared his elbow.

They were art in its finest form. His body was a medium, letting him express emotions he couldn't show by other means.

Obi-Wan laughed. There was nothing funny about it, but he laughed anyway. He felt like he was losing his mind yet couldn't bring himself to care.

Obi-Wan didn't eat that day. Or the next. Even thinking about doing so nauseated him.

It went on. Emptiness tasted good in his stomach. Days went on-maybe weeks, he couldn't remember-until he collapsed. Luke was hold in his arms at the time.

Obi-Wan couldn't think he could forgive himself if the boy had been injured. Luke was fine, thankfully.

_Unfortunately_.

Demons didn't like Luke. He was too bright, too pure. They usually kept their distance when Obi-Wan was with Luke.

After the incident, Obi-Wan made a point of eating once in a while. He couldn't let self-destruction harm those under his care.

Obi-Wan admired hunger. True, it was not pleasant, but it was his loyal and steadfast companion. Hunger was always there when he wasn't eating. It was so simple. Hunger couldn't deceive him so Obi-Wan let it become his best friend. It never betrayed him-

-_like Anakin did_. Demons finished his thought.

Or sleep.

Sleep was the opposite of hunger. Obi-Wan begged for it to come night after night. It never did. Sleep seemed to enjoy the notion that Obi-Wan was in dire need of its company. He gave up after a week or so, content himself with insomnia and permanent smudges under his eyes.

On a rare occasion, sleep took pity on him, letting him drift off in peace. More often than not, Obi-Wan woke up in cold sweat and panic, feeling worse than he did after sleepless nights.

Obi-Wan avoided it like he would a corrupted politician.

But Obi-Wan was mindful. He would keep himself alive until Luke didn't need him anymore.

He owed that to the boy and the memory of his parents.


	2. Chapter 2

Luke cried.

Great timing. Obi-Wan yanked the sleeve down on his still-bleeding arm and went to find the boy.

A light brush against the boy's mind told him Luke wanted to be hold. He, like most babies, found warm flesh to be a more appealing bead than a crib.

Obi-Wan picked Luke up. He walked around the house, humming half-forgotten lullaby the way a child-raising article suggested.

Obi-Wan felt a small smile in his lips as Luke calmed down to sleep again. The boy grew up so fast. He had heard this phrase said by many parents. He thought he understood it, being a Master to Anakin. Yet this felt different. Anakin had been nine when he became Obi-Wan's padawan, he was more like a younger brother, or a friend. Luke was a baby-a small, fragile life-in his care, not the Jedi's. He could felt it, love mingled with pride and fondness in his heart if he dared to have it acknowledged.

This was the moment Obi-Wan knew he was to be the boy's father, not a Master or some sort of relative.

The revelation was heavy. Obi-Wan sat down on a couch. Luke-his son-unconsciously snuggled against his chest. Quiet peace enveloped them both. He soaked in it.

Obi-Wan shifted into a more comfortable position. His hand brushed a stray strand from the boy's brow. Blond hair was tainted brownish red, as was Luke's forehead.

The same red was on his fingertips, trailing down from the hem of his robe.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan whispered to the sleeping child, even when he knew Luke couldn't hear him. Wet cloth wiped away bloodstain on the boy's face. Obi-Wan's heart burnt with self-hatred.

Ghosts joined Obi-Wan. Demons talked, but ghosts didn't. They showed. They liked to surprise him. One moment he was reading on a datapad. The next, words would disappear.

Yellow eyes. Blue lightsabers. Dark robes. Molten lava. Amputated body. They became his reality. He was back on Mustafar. Tatooine never happened. Luke was nothing more than a faint dream. Obi-Wan gasped for breath. The air came to his lungs harsh and shallow. It smelt like charred flesh and sulphur. He felt the smooth durasteel surface of the hilt. The ground was blistering even with his boots. He wondered how agonizing it was for Anakin. He thought he knew the answer. His heart burnt with the very same fire. It burnt with Anakin.

Eternity passed, maybe it just felt that way. Obi-Wan found himself on his knees, white knuckles gripped toilet bowl. Nothing came out save for acidic fluid. He wiped his mouth and shivered. He tucked his knees to his chest. His tailbone dug into the hard floor. It hurt but he didn't care. It hurt more as he rocked himself. He still didn't care. Every pain was easier to bear than the one in his heart. No tear came. He didn't expect it to.

Another eternity passed before Obi-Wan managed to get on his feet again. He took a quick shower. Sonic felt too harsh on his skin, or maybe not. It could be his hand that scrubbed himself raw. Before him was a mirror as his digits found collarbones, feeling his ribs, lingering between the space between each of them. They passed down the concave plane to cover each of his hipbones. Only then was he satisfied. It was a routine. It came naturally, like his heart beating or his lungs taking the air in and out.

A sigh passed his lips as he dressed. He never knew if it came out of relief or regret. Strong facade slipped over and he faced the universe again.

Before Padmé (and he) went to Mustafar, she had given him access to an untraceable account with enough fund to buy a planet.

"Take it," Padmé had pressed the account chip into his palm.

"But-"

"Take it. Just in case. You can return it to me later." He remembered giving in with a sigh at her insistence.

Now, he was grateful. He didn't think he could manage a job and a task of raising a child at the same time. Luke was an easy child. He cried when he needed something and stopped when his needs were met. It was simple when he needed food, sleep or to change a diaper. But when Luke needed love, Obi-Wan didn't know how to give it. He was a Jedi all his life. Jedi didn't love, didn't have attachment. At least they didn't show them. They would be buried in the depth of the soul, the Force the only one who knew of their existence.

Sometimes, a hug, even a simple pat was too much. His body would freeze as if paralyzed and draw back as if shocked. It made him felt so much like an inadequate parent.

Luke was playing with his toys. A stuffed bantha was in his chubby hand, other ones in the herd strewn around the toddler. His gaze came up from the bantha and met Obi-Wan's. A frown marred his tiny brow.

"Da. You sad." Luke tottled past his toys on the play mat and climbed up to sit on Obi-Wan's lap. He wiggled around, his hands found Obi-Wan's face, stretching it into a smile.

"Here. Better." Luke clapped his hands, satisfied with his handiwork. His expression was almost smug as he went back to his bantha.

"Brat," Obi-Wan mumbled under his breath. The smile stayed.

It unnerved Obi-Wan how well Luke could sense him in the Force despite his shield. The ability was astounding for a child his age. And it would grow, Obi-Wan was certain. That was dangerous. He didn't want to consider the possibility that the boy would feel what he himself did. He didn't want Luke to feel that, to have self-hatred an eternal fire in his heart, to have demons occupy his mind and become a part of it.

Obi-Wan wouldn't let that happen. He could teach Luke to build his shield. No, he couldn't do that. He couldn't teach Luke the way of the Force when he himself couldn't stand touching it.

He made his decision. He stopped brushing against Luke's mind. He stopped responding to Luke's mental greeting. He stopped the warm glow travelling back and forth in their fledgling bond. He stopped using the Force altogether.

Obi-Wan missed Luke. He missed his radiant light in the Force. But Luke's safety came first. It didn't matter how much it cost him.

Luke's memory of the Force would fade to childhood fantasy.


	3. Chapter 3

Luke was running. He was exhausted. His legs begged him to stop. He ignored them and ran faster. He didn't have to look back to see what was chasing him. Constant rhythm of respirator sounded closer and closer no matter how fast he moved, how many steps he take.

He had to get out of here. He had to-

Luke couldn't breathe. Something blocked his windpipe. Pressure built around his throat. His head was ready to explode. Dizziness swept over him. Each throb of pulse was deafening in his ears. He would die and the last thing he would see before his demise was a cold black mask of a monster.

Luke resigned himself to his fate.

Dry air rushed into his lungs. Luke could breathe again. His throat felt sore and tender, but there was no bruise.

"It was just a dream. Just a dream," Luke tried to tell himself. He could still taste fear in the back of his tongue. His legs ached. His ears rang. His head throbbed. It was more than a dream. Everything was vivid, details were still sharp against his mind, except Luke didn't remember who-or what-he was running from.

Luke slipped out of his bed. He didn't feel like being alone anymore. Maybe Obi-Wan would enjoy the company of another insomniac tonight.

To his surprise, Obi-Wan wasn't in the living room, or the fresher, or the kitchen. Luke knocked the door of Obi-Wan's room. No answer came. He tried the door; it wasn't locked.

Luke climbed onto the bed and snuggled himself in his father's arms. Obi-Wan always woke up at this point. He was an incredibly light sleeper. And that's if he was sleeping in the first place. This time though, he only shifted closer.

"Nightmare, Anakin?" Obi-Wan mumbled in his sleep.

Anakin? Who was Anakin? He wanted to wake Obi-Wan up and asked. No, it could wait. It was rare that his father slept this deep. And he needed it, he had been looking worn out.

Luke breathed in warm, metallic scent of Obi-Wan and let the warm presence soothed him to sleep.

A teacup slipped out of Obi-Wan's grip. It shattered. White ceramic pieces lay on the ground.

Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice.

"Dad!"

Obi-Wan's eyes were glazed over. He didn't hear Luke. Even if he did, there was no recognition in his gaze; there was only torment. His breathing was sharp and shallow, his mouth locked in a silent scream.

Luke reached for Obi-wan's hand. It was warm, too warm and clammy with sweat. The touch didn't ground Obi-Wan he flinched away from it. There was nothing Luke could do but watched Obi-Wan suffered in silence.

"Obi-Wan," Luke didn't know if he whispered or he screamed, if he begged or demanded. He just couldn't stand those haunted, blank eyes anymore.

Obi-Wan turned to face him this time. His green-blue eyes lit up. "Anakin," his voice was cracked, raspy. Yet there was no mistaking joy in it.

Luke froze. Anakin. That name again.

"It's all a dream, isn't it, just a long terrible one?"

He wasn't Anakin. But he didn't tell Obi-Wan that. He saw torment melt away from his father, revealing something precious underneath. Luke would pretend-for a moment-if it meant that pain wouldn't return.

Luke nodded.

"Force, I miss you." Obi-Wan's body came closer to seek comfort from the touch it once denied.

Luke was jealous for whoever Anakin was. Obi-Wan was his father and never showed this much blatant, visible affection-not like this. For Luke, Obi-Wan's love was a soft breeze, invisible and gentle.

It couldn't be seen; it was hidden from plain sight.

It couldn't be heard; it was never said out loud.

It couldn't be touched; it was always intangible, just out of reach.

It could only be felt with his heart. Obi-Wan's love was as bright as Tatooine twin suns, as fierce as a Krayt dragon.

It was enough.

Or was it? It was good knowing Obi-Wan loved him. But was it enough?

Obi-Wan's head came to rest on his lap. It felt weird, Luke had to admit. Obi-Wan looked so vulnerable like this, so innocent. His innocent wasn't one originated from hiding away away from dark, cruel reality. It was one full of hope and wonder. Years of wars and death couldn't wipe it away. Luke did the only thing he could to preserve it; he continued to pretend.

"I miss you too," Luke said. He carded throught auburn hair. It was a luxury he never had as Obi-Wan's son.

Luke grieved. He grieved for himself and an unknown part of a man he knew-the part he couldn't reach. Tears came. They flooded with misery.

"Shh. Don't cry." Obi-Wan's callous thumb reached up and brushed clear tracks away from his cheek. If Luke closed his eyes, he could delude himself into thinking this act was for him, not for 'Anakin'.

More tears arrived at that thought. "I'm sorry," Obi-Wan murmured. "I'm so sorry." His words was weighted down with agony and regret.

I forgive you, Luke meant to say. He wouldn't be able to bear it if Obi-Wan looked up at the moment and saw Luke-not Anakin. He didn't want to see guilt crashing on Obi-Wan's shoulder again. He remained silent.

"It's okay. Everything will be okay," Luke said instead.

Obi-Wan didn't remember. Luke thanked the Force and every deity exist in this vast universe.

The war gave Obi-Wan more than physical scars. Luke shouldn't be surprised. He knew about the physical ones, Obi-Wan was self-conscious about them, concealing them with long sleeves, even on the hottest day.

Luke wanted to help Obi-Wan. He wanted to ask who Anakin was. He wanted to take Obi-Wan to a mind healer.

In the end, Luke did none of the above. He knew how fast Obi-Wan erected his mental fortress up when he felt uncomfortable, hiding his thoughts and emotions behind a wooden mask.

Mind healer thing was out of the question. Luke didn't think there a reliable one existed here on Tatooine. If there was, it would still be dangerous. He practically heard Obi-Wan's refusal in his head. Secrets could be bought with enough money. If the Empire knew Obi-Wan was still alive...

Luke didn't want to think about what would happen. Death would be the kindest fate life had to offer.

He still didn't understand why Obi-Wan chose to be a General. He wasn't suit for the job. Luke couldn't imagine Obi-Wan intentionally hurt someone, let alone killed.

'It was my duty to serve the Republic,' that's how Obi-Wan answered.

"Do you see my mug?"

Luke blinked. Obi-Wan's voice, the real one, startled him out of his thought.

Oh, the mug, the one that shattered. It was Obi-Wan's favourite, the one he used for as long as Luke could remember.

"Sorry, I broke it," Luke lied.

"Did you clean up the shards?"

Luke nodded, mustering a guilty face. It wasn't hard, he felt bad for lying.

"It's alright," Obi-Wan said. "Some things are meant to be broken."

"And some broken things aren't meant to be fixed."

Obi-Wan wasn't talking about the cup.


	4. Chapter 4

"We're going to town tomorrow."

Luke perked up at Obi-Wan's word. "Really? Can I go see Biggs?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "For 3 hours, I think. I'll pick up supplies and talk to the Marstraps. They need more water for their garden."

The Marstraps frequently bought water from Kenobi's farm running a hydroponic garden and had been doing so for years. They were nice and sold their product at a reasonable price.

Their daughter Camie also looked really nice with her wavy brown hair and delicate features. She could be called beautiful, Luke mused but wasn't so sure. There was a considerable lack of woman in his life. He didn't even have a mother to compare her to. Camie probably was the only girl his age he knew.

And Luke kinda liked her. His heart melted a little bit every time Camie smiled his way. And he hoped to see her tomorrow.

There was a chance, if a slim one that Camie would be at the cantina with her parents.

"-won't be there," Obi-Wan said.

"Er. What did you say?"

"I think Camie won't be there," Obi-Wan repeated in exasperated tone.

"Really?" He mumbled before jumping up in surprise. "Hey. Wait. Stop. How?"

Obi-Wan's eyebrow rose in a perfect arch. "How what?" He looked like he really didn't know what he was talking about. Luke knew otherwise. Obi-Wan was good at acting. He acted like a crazy wizard for those he didn't want to deal with. He acted like a smuggler when he wanted 'information' from offworlders. For anyone else, he acted like he was local born here and lived here all his life.

Luke made a mental list of people that would believe he was half-Togruta before believing that Obi-Wan wasn't born here.

The list was a long one.

Only at home that Obi-Wan would slipped off the mask. His accent would smoothened out to a Core Worlds one. He would be back to the kind, world-weary father Luke knew.

The ease of Obi-Wan slipping in and out of each role scared Luke sometimes-that the father Luke knew was just another mask Obi-Wan wore to hide from the world...

Luke focused on the present, on a small twitch of Obi-Wan's lips that revealed his secret enjoyment.

"How do you know I'm thinking about-Luke's face burnt-her?" He grumbled and inwardly swore that Obi-Wan could read his mind.

"You have that silly grin on your face and get lost in your thought." Obi-Wan rubbed his beard. "I believe that's 'mooning'-classic symptom of lovesickness in every species. Honestly, Luke. You talk about her all the time and you think I won't notice?"

Obi-Wan's reply didn't help the blush of his cheeks.

"You're just being dramatic, dad." Luke growled. He wasn't that visible, was he? Obi-Wan was just too good at reading people.

"I'm not." Obi-Wan let out a fond chuckle. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

Luke groaned.

A minute passed before Obi-Wan turned serious."I want you to remember my words, Luke. Love can hurt you. It will hurt you. And when it does, you have to be careful. Don't let love blind you or lure you to the path you don't mean to take."

"It's not worth it."

Luke hated the way Obi-Wan talked. It sounded like he knew what he spoke of too well. He hated that it seemed like war wasn't the only thing that changed Obi-Wan.

Was it my mother? Was that why you never said much about her and your time together?, he wanted to ask.

Obi-Wan couldn't really read his mind, it seemed. Or he could and chose to ignore his silent question. "Promise me you'll be careful," he said, green-blue orbs staring straight to Luke's.

Obi-Wan's eyes were the most expressive parts of him. They expressed things too profound to be conveyed in other ways.

The urge to protect from unknown future. Paternal love. Concern. Care.

Obi-Wan fucking cared; that was a concept Luke struggled with when he was young, for his father never said loving words like his friends' did. He never coddled him in hugs and kisses.

Luke used to lie awake at night wondering if Obi-Wan cared. And his father'd come to check on him because Luke'd had a nightmare the previous night.

Luke suspected Obi-Wan cared a bit when he was stuck with Bantha flu for a week and Obi-Wan had been there by his bedside the entire time.

Luke guessed Obi-Wan cared a lot more than he let on when he'd slipped on the stair and lost his conscious. He'd woken up to see Obi-Wan with frantic gaze and red-rimmed eyes.

He was only sure that Obi-Wan cared years after. That was when he learnt to read his eyes. But it was so, so easy to forget. As easy as it was to doubt the existence of something intangible.

"I promise."

"Thank you, Luke," Obi-Wan's eyes crinkled a little as he gave a small smile.

The expression soothed something deep within Luke. It was hard living with Obi-Wan when he was still haunted with something that happened long before. His father was flawed, but so was he. Luke couldn't ask for a better father.

Well, he could, but he wouldn't. He loved Obi-Wan and the man really cared for him. With the thought in his mind, Luke wrapped Obi-Wan in a tight embrace. "I love you, Dad."

"I know." No I love you too, not that Luke expected one. No strong arms wrapping him back, just small touches on his shoulders.

It's enough. It's enough.

Eleven-thirty. Half an hour until Obi-Wan came and picked him up. Obi-Wan had said that Camie wouldn't come with her parents, but Luke couldn't help the niggling doubt. What if Obi-Wan was wrong? What if she came? The thought didn't sit well on him.

He said goodbye to the Darklighters and headed to the cantina. It wasn't a long walk, no more than 8 minutes if he walked in a brisk pace. However, luck was not on his side today.

Luke was more than half way there when he realized his mistake-too far away to go back to the Darklighters. Stormtroopers were everywhere, crowding the street. Their white armors looked out of place in the local market. Things were chaotic as vendors darted away, knowing many of their goods were considered as illegal by the Empire.

Luke did the same, not wanting to cross his way with the Empire soldier. He pressed his back to the wall of dingy alley connected to the street. The troopers' presence was not exactly surprising as the Empire's day was just a week away. And so was his fourteenth birthday.

Shadow flicked. Luke looked up to see a trooper walked into the narrow alley.

"You!"

Luke turned to look around. There was no one else here. Just him. And the trooper.

"Me?"

Dread trickled in. Obi-Wan and he tried to keep out of the Empire's radar as much as possible. Having a their attention was never a good thing.

"Yes. No need to be afraid, boy. Just a random check. Where are your parents?"

"In the cantina. Actually, I'm on his way to meet him." Luke said, creeping toward the main street. He didn't reach it, though. A small move from the armoured man and the only exit was blocked.

He got the message. Don't try to escape. Just get on with the check.

"Your ID?"

"At home. I forget to bring it," Luke lied. It was in his pocket, along with some money. He should get it out and get over with this stupid check, but his instinct warned him not to do that. Luke believed it, even when he knew he was acting suspicious.

One didn't simply forget their ID. It was something to keep with oneself all the time on Tatooine if one didn't want to get into trouble.

"Lead the way, then. I have to see your parents." The trooper sidestepped, making a way for Luke to the main street.

Luke didn't move. "My father is in a meeting right now," he said, not wanting to leading an Empire's man right to Obi-Wan.

"Just bring me to him. It won't take long." The trooper's hands twitched, as did the blaster. I don't have all day, boy.

He had half a mind to just run. No, that wouldn't work. The trooper wouldn't hesitate to shoot him if he did. And the blaster might or might not have been set on stun.

"Alright. Alright." He walked, unwillingly. The trooper followed him too close for his comfort.

He came to a stop just outside of the cantina.

"Continue," the trooper growled behind him.

No. Trust in the Force. A voice said. This one was so different from the harsh rasp of the trooper. This voice made him felt good, like hot chocolate before bed. Smooth, warm, comforting.

Safe.

The Voice asked for permission and he granted it. Luke let it took over his body and left his mind floating. He trusted it. It was the same voice from his childhood, he realised, the same one as the lullaby long forgotten.

Luke turned around to face the trooper. "You don't need to see my identification," he heard himself said.

"I don't need to see your identification," the trooper repeated and walked away.

The trooper looked lost, Luke distantly mused. He was himself again but something within him changed-no, more like clicked to place, making him whole.

Completed.


	5. Chapter 5

"Dad!"

Thank the stars Obi-Wan heard urgency in Luke's tone and swiftly excused himself from long-time acquaintances and customers.

In the speeder, Luke started. "I-"

Obi-Wan flicked him a meaningful glance. Later. At home.

Luke complied, keeping his mouth shut all the way back. The engine growled heavily with the effort Obi-Wan put on the pedal.

He told Obi-Wan what'd happened.

Silence that followed spoke loudly of his impending doom. He could practically hear 5-hours lecture on recklessness coming his way.

Luke waited patiently for the preaching to start.

Thud.

Luke gaze glanced up from his lap. The sound was from the door of Obi-Wan's quarter slamming shut. The probability of him getting long, painful death went up from 90 to 99 percent. At least it was not 99.99.

Yet.

Luke was distracted by muffled rummaging, heavy mass being moved from its long dwelling point. His sense of impending doom morphed into one of curiosity. "Need help there?" he shouted.

A declination and ten minutes later, Obi-Wan was back with a foot-long metallic cylinder.

It's more than that , his sense said. Something inside the rod called to him. It hummed in resonance with the just-pieced jigsaw in him. The hilt was warm in his grip. Alive and eager, resembling a dog with its long-absent owner returned, its nonexistent tail wagging.

A lightsaber -the hilt thrummed in affirmation-weapon of a Jedi.

Luke pressed a round button, making sapphire blade sprung out.

The grip was just right, fitting snugly in his gold-plated prosthetic.

"Watch out, General!" Blaster bolt flashed in his direction. He deflected it with ease. The man who warned him faded as did the battle.

Soft, warm body caressed him, as did the delicate whisper. "I'm pregnant." Joy floated inside him, and fear too. They would be safe, he swore to himself. No matter how high the cost.

Wide eyes looked at him with absolute trust. "They're everywhere, Master. What should we do?" A flick of his wrist. Then those same eyes stared back, sightless and accusing in death.

Sabers clashed. Blue upon blue. Hatred pulsated in his veins, fueling him and kept him going as the Light perished.

"I HATE YOU." Darkness pooled around his heart, clogging it, turning it forever into hell.

Cool, calloused fingers pried the abominable rod away from his grip. "Your perk for getting into trouble have to be inherited somewhere," Obi-Wan said, less than amused.

"Wh-what is that ?-he gestured at the metallic hilt, still in Obi-Wan's grip-I mean it's a lightsaber. But I..." Luke took a deep breath to calm down. "What happened?"

And Obi-Wan explained.

The suns were getting swallowed by the Dune Sea when they finally lapsed into a contemplative silence.

"So...you're a Jedi?" Luke thought out loud. It wasn't really a question, when the voice inside him-no, the Force , he corrected himself-already told him the answer. Luke counted his breath, waiting for Obi-Wan's reply. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...

"Yes, I am."

A general . Obi-Wan had lied. All thirteen years of his life. Or worse, it was the truth, from a certain point of view. "Why tell me now?" Luke demanded. Why tell me at all? You don't want me to know, do you?

"Because I will teach you, Luke," Obi-Wan said. "the way of the Force."

Tatooine had three moons: Ghomrassen, Guermessa and Chenini. The natives believed it was a sign of good luck to see the three at them at the same time. Obi-Wan had inwardly scoff when he first heard that. It was impossible to see three of them at once on the planet. But they were right, he came to think of it; the only way to do that was to observe them from space-on a starship to take them away from Tatooine to a new life.

Two were present tonight, one full, one gibbous. They illuminated the night sky and planet underneath with silver light.

Seven years ago under the very same sky, Luke gazed up at the fathomless depth of space that shone with constellations.

"Which one are you from, dad?" Luke asked, his eyes still locked upward.

"Coruscant," Obi-Wan said. "That's where I grew up. You can't see it from here. It's too far away." He paused, searching the sky. "That's Stewjon. I was born there."

Luke moved closer, tentatively lacing his fingers with the older man. Obi-Wan gave it a small squeeze. He wasn't the one for small touch. But there was something about being under the vast dome of heaven that made other human flesh welcome. It made him felt small, just an insignificant speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. Liberatingly so.

"What about me? Where was I born?"

"Polis Massa. Let's see..." Obi-Wan pointed at a hazy bright cloud not so far away from to Horizon. "That's where your mother gave birth to you."

Luke turned to look at him. So quickly, in fact, that Obi-Wan pitied the boy's neck. "I have a mother?"

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath as Luke's question went straight to his soul upon realising they never talked about this. Luke didn't know.

Of course, you never told him.

Obi-Wan weighed his options. Lie, silence, truth. It wasn't a hard decision. The boy deserved to know his mother, even if Obi-Wan couldn't do the same for his father-the boy's real, biological father. Not yet, or maybe not ever.

Obi-Wan patted his crossed legs. "Come. Sit here." He draped one arm around the boy's waist, his free hand combing through the blond mess hair. He needed this-the proximity to other soul-and realised the boy would to, if he were to know. "Yes," he answered. "Her name was Padmé Amidala. She was the a queen of Naboo and a senator."

"A queen. Wow," Luke exclaimed. "That's wizard. Does that make me a prince or something?"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "No. It doesn't work like that. I'll explain to you when you're older. Back to the story, Padmé was a queen when I first met her. Years later, she was on Coruscant as a senator. That's where we met again."

"It was a dark time. People-even the Jedi-lost their way; Padmé was one of few who didn't. She dared to fight for democracy and what's right. I respected her for that. At the end of the Clone Wars, she was injured. Gravely so. She carried you, then. I-We went to Polis Massa where she gave birth to you..."

"She didn't make it." Obi-Wan pulled Luke closer.

Naboo twinkled, more luminescent than ever. "Your mother would be proud of you."

Obi-Wan sat on the sand, the very same place as he had years ago. Only this time, he was by himself.

A chilling breeze passed by, brushing sand into ripples and ripples.

Obi-Wan gently closed his eyes. And breathed.

In. Out. In. Out.

He focused on the air, moving in and out of his lungs.

In. Out. In. Out.

Anapanasati, it was called. Mindfulness of breathing. Knowing one's breath. Knowing the long one as long. Knowing the short one as short.

In. Out. In. Out

Stars glided idly on their path across the sky. But the man sitting beneath didn't know. For he only knew his breath.

In. Out. In. Out.

Biting wind blew and howled. Sand dunes perpetuated their saltation. The man was the only thing left unmoved.

In. Out. In. Out.

The man reached inside the depth of his mind.

In. Out. In. Out.

Air stilled. Sand froze. The man was the only thing moving. He swayed and slumped backward. Unmoving once again.


	6. Chapter 6

Somehow, Luke found him and managed to coax his numb limbs and frozen joints back to the hearty warmth of their homestead, thawing the thing inside his skull enough to resemble a brain once more. Upon that came a realisation.

He failed.

He had thought that peace of mind meditation brought could help him to reconnect with the Force.

At the time, he had been so convinced, so confident it would work. Peace had flowed through him: the state once easily found, lately impossible to achieve.

He was mistaken.

Came to think about it, he shouldn't have gotten his hope up in the first place. He didn't have a good reason to believe he gained back the universe's goodwill.

Obi-Wan leant back on his chair and raked through his hair, wincing as he detected gritty sand occupying the space between his unruly strands.

"I heat up some soup for you." Luke walked in, balancing a steaming ceramic bowl and glasses for both of them.

"Thank you." The soup was weak, almost clear but for the slightest hint of milky blue. No meat, no vegetable. Just liquid. The fact he would be eternally grateful for. Hot and bland. It settled well in his underused stomach.

Luke poured water into the glasses and took a sip from his. "You said you're going out to meditate. What happened?"

Obi-Wan contemplated the query, while stirring half-heartedly, turning the soup into a whirlpool. He recalled reaching inside himself. To the Force. To the impossible fortress built to contain it. He recalled prying open, only to meet with an invisible wall. "I did. It didn't go as planned."

Luke put his glass down carefully, so carefully it didn't make a sound as it touched the dining table. "Whatever you did-his blue eyes flat and sharp at the same time-don't do it again," Luke said, his voice calm and perfectly level. Too level to be real. Expression on his face was smooth and serene, save for a small tightness on the corner of his mouth.

There was a small click as Obi-Wan placed down the spoon. And then silence. He could hear Luke's breath. Deep and rhythmic. Too rhythmic. And his own.

"It was hours. You still didn't come back so I went out to look for you. I went to our spot where you said you would be." The glass was still in vice-like grip. " You weren't there. I was growing really worried then. I took the speeder and searched for you. I looked everywhere, called for you, shouting your name."A hairline crack found its way to Luke's voice. "I couldn't find you."

"I continued the search." The glass was trembling, almost imperceptibly. "I glimpsed something. You. Half-buried in the dune. As cold as death. I thought you died." The hairline crack seemed to deepen. "I prayed to every deity I knew, the Suns God, the Moons Goddess, the Force. I begged them to bring you back," Luke chuckled: a cultured, mirthless sound. "My plea was heard, in a way. In my shock, I neglected to check your pulse."

Luke's back was straight, his posture rigid from all the tensed muscles as he stood up. He was so still that he could have been made of stone, not flesh and blood. "Pardon me."

That. And he was gone, leaving Obi-Wan there with the meal long-forgotten.

The way Luke acted disturbed him to the core…

Cold aloofness. Dispassionate mask. That soft deadly tone. The act. Locking emotions away to a place no one could see.

It reminded him so, so much of himself that it scared him. There was no mistaking where Luke learnt it from. Consciously or not.

So this was how he really failed. His failure with the Force paled to nothingness in comparison.

"Luke," Obi-Wan called out.

The boy didn't turn, didn't even so much as nod to acknowledge him. "Go away," Luke said in that composed tone.

"I apologise," He took a small step closer as the boy didn't move away.

"It's not your fault." Same dull, colorless voice. The reply was immediate. An automatic response. Obi-Wan could tell that Luke didn't believe it himself.

Obi-Wan gingerly placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"No! Don't touch me!" Again, the reply was immediate. But this time, the boy truly meant it. Luke cringed away, wrapping protective arms around himself.

Something hitched inside Obi-Wan's throat. Luke never ever flinched away from touch. He yearned for it, each and every one Obi-Wan could offer.

"Go away. I would like to be alone," The tone was still soft, but there was a hint of durasteel veiled in it.

His windpipe felt constricted. "Oh, Luke," he murmured. He didn't know what else to say. Words seemed… inadequate to convey what needed to be said.

"Please.." Obi-Wan put so much into one word that it hung heavy in the tension-filled air around them. Please let me help. Please forgive me. Please don't hate me. Please let everything be alright. Please don't be like this Please don't be so much like me. Please…

Luke's face flickered and softened. It was Luke who stared back. Not the imposter . The boy was shaking, obviously hurting. He bit his lip hard to lock in choking sobs that threatened to spill out.

Obi-Wan reached out once again to soothe the distraught boy.

"No! Don't touch me!" That Luke was back again. All the previous openness hastily shuttered. A tinge of hysteria touched his otherwise steady tone. "Go," Luke said. "If you ever love me, then go."

Numb, Obi-Wan did.

It had been five days. Five days Luke and he didn't speak to each other. Five days they avoided each other like plague.

It had also been five days that he didn't eat. He stared at himself in the mirror; the mirror him stared back. Here they were; the judge and the judged.

A Jedi's body was just a vessel of the Force and nothing more, or so he was taught. But for Obi-Wan, it was more. It was something he could bend to his will. As a youngling, he used to search for something stable, something that he would always be in control in his otherwise almost uncontrollable life. The Force was too vast, too immense. Not people, they changed over time. Not his mind, especially not his mind.

Then there was his body.

Biology had been his favorite subject. Life captivated him. It never ceased to fascinate him how billions and billions of cells worked together to create a body. For his young self, it had been like magic, but even better; it was the Force.

A part of him had gone quite obsessed with the concept that he had wondered what it would be like to disrupt it, to push it to the limit. He would have been repelled with himself and gone to meditate.

The Force had mourned everytime he had acted upon it.

It had gone on and on until Master Jinn had took him as a padawan. He had found something else to control. He had controlled his temper, his action, his word, his manner. It was how he had been thought to be a perfect Jedi. It took time. It took effort. But it gave him other thing to focus on, other than self-destruction.

When people had praised him for it, sometimes to his Master, sometimes behind his back, it had made him feel like a pretender under his humble Jedi garb.

Obi-Wan was dressed in nudity and nothing else. The judge's eyes roved over the judged's each and every imperfection showing no mercy even if they technically were one and the same. The judged stood still, allowing the judge to move as it wished. After the daily ritual, to make sure it wasn't that disgustingly fat, the judge started the real inspection, poring over every ounce of fat that still managed to cling on the bones.

Fat. The judge pinched on the loose bit on the underside of the upper arm. The judged mumbled an apology under its breath.

The judge did the same to dry, compliant skin of the stomach. Revolting. Twisting to the side, the judge placed one hand on the stomach, one on the lower back and pressed down. See? It could be thinner. The judged nodded obediently.

The judge crept down, caressing hip bones and tailbone reverently, almost in worshipfulness. Mmm. Good. Before it cupped the flesh on his backsides that was not entirely gone yet. Unacceptable. Jiggling them as it tutted disapprovingly. Eliminate this. The judged hung his head down in shame.

The judge continued its evaluation, bending down to prod around inner thighs and calves. Gross.

Obi-Wan's vision went black as he straightened up. He gripped a shelf nearby for support, patiently waiting for momentary dizziness to pass. The idea of getting dressed seemed to take too much effort even to think about. Slowly, he made his way to bed. Movement was agony when his body was eating itself for energy. He bundled himself in a cocoon of blanket. Everything was goddamn cold these days. Force, he was exhausted .

And Obi-Wan continued to starve.


	7. Chapter 7

A chrono chimed, signalling a new day. Luke's birthday.

Obi-Wan crawled out of his bed, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. He got dressed, deliberately avoiding the mirror. No need to face it yet. That would be for later. A passing glance showed him all and more than he needed to know. If he dared to admit it to himself, he evaded the mirror because in those glimpse he truly saw himself for what he was, a little more than a skeleton with skin attached. He forbade his brain from processing what he saw. He would like to escape from reality, and possibly himself for a little longer. Yes, he was fine. There was nothing wrong with him.

_If only that were true…_

He got the wrapped package from a drawer and and went toward Luke's bedroom. In front of it, he hesitated. Every year he slipped in at night and left the gift there for Luke to find in the morning it had become their custom. Yet he didn't want to invade the boy's personal space when he had made it clear that he didn't want Obi-Wan.

"Happy birthday," he whispered to the door, even though Luke wouldn't hear it.

Instead of the bedroom, he was in the kitchen, tearing out everything edible from the pantry. He ripped open a bag, a carton, a can, a box for content inside. He gobbled them up, savory with sour and sweet. Some combination tasted well, some tasted like shit together. It didn't really matter. What did was that he was gulping down something, anything. There were no careful bites, just enough chewing to shove them down his throat and not choked himself to death. His stomach was churning with leaden weight. His head was churning at the horrifying thought of eating, of _losing control_. He kept stuffing and stuffing himself. He couldn't stop. He ate to fill himself up. To fill the black hole inside. To fill the void in his soul. To fill the gaping abyss. He ate until his body couldn't take it anymore. He took care of it. Putting a finger to scratch at the back of his throat and it all came out. He took a gulp of fresh water and started again. Filling the new void that had been emptied out. A painful, beautiful, vicious cycle he made for himself. The food he took in, he vomited out. In. out. In. Out. A mockery of meditation. With his digestive tract instead of respiratory. He lost himself in it. The vicious rhythm of in and out. He noticed nothing but food, moving in and out of his mouth.

He came back to himself after there was nothing left for him to eat. He gagged for one last time. He made sure to be thorough. That there was nothing left in his stomach.

Empty once again.

He drifted in the realm between sleep and wakefulness, basking in the afterglow. The domed, synstone ceiling stared down at him cheerfully. Even the mattress under him seemed to grin back. If he could feel the Force, it would have danced in joy. The thought was a sickening jolt to reality.

No, the Force would have wept. The way it had so many times before.

"Hey."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to the pourstone domed ceiling and didn't reply. Maybe if he pretended not to hear it, the voice would go away.

His perfect view of the ceiling was blocked by Luke's visage. His wasted hand was wrapped a far, far warmer one. "Stars. This is worse than I thought. You're just kriffing _bones_."

He craned his neck to look at their joined hands. A part of him preened at the compliment. The other part was aghast that he did.

"You hadn't eat," Luke said. He dragged a chair nearer to the bed and sat on it. "until last night."

So his nocturnal raid had been noticed. He neither confirmed nor denied it. "Why do you come?" he asked instead. He didn't have energy to deal with this. Or anything else.

"You have to eat," Luke said while avoiding his eyes. "I mean, like normal human does."

"I do eat,"Obi-Wan protested, pulling himself up to a sitting position.

"Yeah, you do." Even a deaf man could hear sarcasm dripping from the boy's voice. "Only when I make sure you do."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, already started feeling a headache blooming inside his skull. "I'm fine. Thank you very much."

"You don't see yourself," Luke whispered. Emotions brimmed inside his low voice. He yanked the blanket down. "You're skin and bones."

He followed Luke's gaze. The boy wasn't seeing clearly. There were still fat that could be trimmed out. "I'm not."

Luke dragged him to the mirror."Look. Really look."

"Look at me in the eyes and see you're fine. Can you do that?" Luke challenged.

Obi-Wan was done with this nonsense. "What do you want?" He asked bluntly and a little angrily. The negotiator within him winced.

"This isn't about what I want! This is about you. You're the one starving yourself."

Obi-Wan shook his head and sat back on the bed.

Luke followed to sit a respectable distance from him. The mattress dipped as he did. "You're denying that you have a problem."

"I'm not." Obi-Wan crossed his arms defensively.

Luke sighed. "Fine. What if I starved myself for a week. Is that alright?"

"No! You can't do that, Luke." His paternal instinct kicked in before his mind did.

"See? You know it's not right. How could you the same for yourself?" Luke asked.

"It's different," Obi-Wan replied through gritted teeth.

"How? How's it different?" Luke asked further.

The headache multiplied. He rubbed his temples. "It's not the same. It-It's complicated."

"Then tell me. So I could understand!" Luke sprung up and paced the room.

"Don't you have better thing to do than trying to get me to argue with you?" Obi-Wan asked, pursing his lips.

"Fine! This is getting nowhere anyway. You're not listening."

The door slammed shut..

Luke came back fifteen minutes later. He should have locked the door.

"You have to eat." The boy placed a bowl on bedside table and dragged him up from bed. It was an annoying thing when his son was stronger than himself.

At fourteen.

"Eat." A bowl was placed in his hand.

It was the same soup as a week ago. "I'm not hungry."

"Okay." Luke put the soup away. "You remember what I said? About if I starve myself."

Obi-Wan grimaced. He didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"I'll do that," Luke said. He met his eyes squarely. "I will only eat if you do. _When _you do. And I will only eat _what _you do. And nothing more, starting from this moment." He tilted his chin up, proudly showing his defiance to the world.

"No, Luke. You're not doing this," Obi-Wan said. His voice was firm. "You can't do this."

"Yes, I am. And I can," Luke replied. Just as firm.

"No! This is not safe!" Obi-Wan shot up to his feet to stare down at Luke.

Luke huffed and stood up too. Their height wasn't too different. "Then why are you doing it?"

"I told you it was different." Obi-Wan repeated. He put a hand on his hip.

"And you can't tell me why. This is so unreasonable." He paused. "Anyway, are you going to eat the soup?"

"No."

Luke shrugged. "I won't either. Tell me when you do so that I'll eat it too. Bye."


	8. Chapter 8

_You're fat enough already. You don't deserve food, _demons reminded him.

Of course, they were right. Obi-Wan glared at the bowl that long since cooled down to room temperature.

_Yes, I don't. But Luke does, _he replied.

_Excuse! You use that boy as an excuse to eat. Selfish whale._

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and refused to listen. _They hate Luke, _he reminded himself. He couldn't listen to them in this matter. _Luke came first. Before himself. Before everything._

Obi-Wan locked the door and took off his tunic. His palm made the last journey on the rugged landscape underneath. He committed all of them to memory. Every dune, every ridge, every cliff. He said his farewell.

_I will miss this._

He ate the damn soup.

Again, Obi-Wan ate. It was nerf steak that Luke made. This dish was Luke's favorite meal, that was why he told the boy he _wanted_ to eat it. Luke was overjoyed when Obi-Wan told him so and disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the dish.

Obi-Wan sliced the meat to a thin strip and cut it in half and then half again. He impaled it with his fork and brought it inside the mouth. He chewed, teeth grinding down for exactly 50 times before he swallowed.

"How is it?" Luke asked, rubbing his hands together.

"It tastes very good."

Luke beamed and it reached his eyes. The boy took a bite from his own plate." Mmm, I like this spice rub. Next time I'll add thyme and bay leaf. It will taste even better."

Obi-Wan nodded and took another bite. It was good to see Luke chattering and smiling freely. He kept swallowing. Luke did the same. The boy's happiness the only thing that kept him from stopping.

"I think vaporators need new batteries," Luke said. The current ones were almost useless. they hadn't been changed for decades. "Condensers aren't working properly without sunlight."

Luke was probably right. Obi-Wan didn't have skill or energy to do these mechanical stuff. Given his luck, he'd gotten himself electrocuted in 4 minutes if he'd tried. "We'll pick them up next time we go to town."

"Alright. Thanks."

"I have enough,"Obi-Wan said. His stomach was stretched and filled uncomfortably as it digested the food.

_And it'll absorb all the FAT, _the demons supplied helpfully.

Luke's smile vanished for a second and reappeared. It didn't reach his eyes this time. "A few more bites," Luke urged. "For me."

Obi-Wan picked up the utensils and did as Luke asked. He couldn't refuse that puppy-dog eyes and Luke knew it.

"Thank you," Luke said.

Obi-Wan stood, picking up both plates.

Luke took empty plates from him. "I'll do the wash-up. You can go rest."

It was already ten in the morning and Obi-Wan wasn't up yet. Weird, Luke thought.

He knocked on Obi-Wan's door. He couldn't barge into other people's bedroom as he did when he was younger anymore, or so he was told.

He knocked again. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Obi-Wan replied.

Luke rolled his eyes at himself. He didn't know why he even bother to ask. Obi-Wan could have a broken leg and said he was fine.

Yeah, and decorum was overrated anyway.

Obi-Wan huddled into himself under the blanket facing away from him and didn't even turn.

"Are you ill?" Luke reached for Obi-Wan's forehead. It was clammy with sweat but not burning.

"I'm fine. Just need some rest." Obi-Wan pulled away from Luke's hand and rolled deeper in the blanket.

Luke pulled away the thick cotton fabric. Obi-Wan's nightshirt was unbuttoned, underneath was rib cage prominent under old scars and unhealthy pallor. Both of his arms wrapped around his middle. Soft loose pants clung low on protruding curve of his hip bones. The sight made Luke want to close his eyes and run away and forget.

Obi-wan had always been thin, his bones always stick out. This, though… This was pushing it. Luke wanted to and scream and cry and sleep.

He had to be strong. _For Obi-Wan._ He could do this. He could do this.

Luke pried at Obi-Wan's arms. The abdomen was not a flat and somewhat concave plane he knew it to be, but a stiff protruding was a stark contrast to his emaciated chest. He touched the distended area lightly, ignoring Obi-Wan's futile batting hand and a noiseless groan.

"I'll sleep it off. It'll be better soon," Obi-Wan said.

"Do you need anything? Food? Some med? I'll get it for you," Luke offered.

Obi-Wan shook his head.

Luke sighed. He would come check later.

Obi-Wan's bloating was better than yesterday, unnoticeable under tunic that swallowed him whole. After some coaxing, obi-wan agreed to have a light meal in the evening, the first one since the steak.

The food was ready. Luke went to fetch Obi-Wan. He was probably asleep, like he had been doing more than usual lately. His body was hibernating to preserve its insufficient energy.

Obi-Wan had a peaceful expression that smoothened out his face. Luke paused. It was rare to see Obi-Wan looked relaxed. He was always agitated in his sleep, tossing and turning and mumbling in his sleep, face curled in a grimace or a frown.

Luke slipped out soundlessly, ignoring the protest of his stomach.

Maybe later.

Obi-Wan ate his porridge without reheating it. Luke followed his suit, imitating his every swallow.

"You don't have to do this, Luke," he said with more than a hint of wariness.

"I know," Luke replied. "But I'm doing this."

"Nothing good can come out of this," Obi-Wan said as he refused to hand Luke the bowls and began to wash them up.

"You already said that."

"Yes-" Obi-Wan halted and a hand came to cover his mouth. He bent down just in time to sick in the sink.

Luke rushed to Obi-Wan's side, his fingers made a fleeting touch on Obi-Wan's back just so that he knew Luke was there, but not solid enough that he would flinch away. He tried to ignore knobby peaks of spine that poked through and passed Obi-Wan a clean cloth and a water jug when he finished.

Obi-Wan wiped his mouth and rinsed away the foul taste.


	9. Chapter 9

Luke was changed. Everything about himself was sharper, harsher without baby fat to soften it. His face was more angular. If he stretched, his bones would proudly show themselves and were almost tangible if he didn't.

He also felt older. A lot had crammed up since he had changed his diet to match Obi-Wan's. It felt like a year had passed instead of a month.

He had learnt a lot. Obi-Wan was teaching him the Force along with usual subjects. Now that he felt it, touched it, he couldn't comprehend what it was like to be without it again. He had voiced his thought to Obi-Wan.

"I couldn't have either."

Couldn't have. Oh.

Luke had never felt so stupid.

Every meal was a bomb about to go off, a volcano about to erupt. Luke could taste tension in the air, so bitter it ruined his appetite. Obi-Wan would cut all his food into tiny pieces and ever so slowly eat it one by one. He then chewed it for countless time and swallowed with a grimace, like doing so physically pained him.

Obi-Wan would say he had enough and Luke would urge him to go on. A weaponless duel began. A saber-less sparring. Tension spun and whirled like a sandstorm.

It would end with their table being wiped up, dished being washed.

If it was dinner, Luke would go outside to collect water and tinker with vaporators and come back just in time to glimpse the two suns sinking down to the sand.

At night, he stared up the at the domed, synstone ceiling almost identical to one in Obi-Wan's room and if it was his unlucky day, hunger reared its ugly head.

Hunger was like a petulant child, Luke thought. It wailed and threw a tantrum in order to get what it wanted. And like the child, Luke learnt, it would only stop when he made it clear that it wouldn't get the attention it demanded.

Luke ignored it, like he normally did.

It bit at his gut, twisting his insides. It writhed. _Don't ignore me! Notice me, feed me._

Luke didn't react to it. Even the worst sandstorm would pass, he told himself. He would be an unresisting flatland. It would come over him and be gone.

Alas, there seemed to be no wind to blow the storm away on its course tonight.

He gave up on sleep.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Luke gazed up from the book he was reading. "Yeah."

Silence followed.

Silence closed the rift that grew between them. Silence knitted up the tear in their tapestry. Silence healed.

Hunger, in its envious pettiness, growled inside Luke.

Silence broke.

Two pairs of eyes fell upon it, one accusing, one unreadable. Obi-Wan slipped away.

Avoidance was their family tradition. What they weren't ready to face, shove it away. Ignore it, bury it. Forget it if one could. Act like it wasn't noticed if one couldn't. What wasn't acknowledged didn't happen, never existed.

It was a messed-up way to deal with issues, but both of them were messed-up anyway.

"You're hungry." Undecipherable and monotonous. Obi-Wan came back from somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

With tea. Hot tea. No one in the desert was insane enough to drink hot tea but Obi-Wan. Tatooine was hot enough as it was.

Luke shook his head as Obi-Wan handed him a cup. He didn't particularly like it.

"Tea helps." Obi-Wan said.

Luke eyed brownish liquid doubtfully but took the mug.

Hot liquid burnt its way down his esophagus. Hunger subsided.

Silence stretched between them, driving them away from each other. As vast as the distance between stars. As void as cold darkness of space. A chasm opened its great mouth and roared.

Silence suffocated. Luke longed to eliminate it. But it stifled his tongue when he tried to speak.

Silence consumed them both.

Obi-Wan changed. Since that night, he ate.

Luke hummed under his breath as he came home, he had finish replacing all the vaporator's battery.

The two suns were still blazing.

He headed to the 'fresher to clean up the grime and paused. Obi-Wan was in there. But the door wasn't fully closed and Luke saw.

There was no sound because Obi-Wan had long since perfect the art of suffering in silence.

And there was still no sound as Luke had long since perfected the art of watching Obi-Wan in silence. _No. this wasn't what he think it was. _

_It wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't._

Luke slipped out. Because avoidance was their gift and he wasn't ready to face reality. He made sure the smile was on when he 'came home' for the second time.

But reality couldn't be avoid when he came home minutes earlier the next day and saw things from the beginning.

_Obi-Wan did this to himself._

_Obi-Wan made himself throw up._

Luke felt nothing but he felt _everything_. His world was crumbling.

"You're fucked-up," Luke must have said that as he heard it and Obi-Wan's lips wasn't moving.

He must have wrapped himself around Obi-Wan tight because he felt bones. Tight enough to know that Obi-Wan wasn't comfortable and he couldn't bring himself to care.

But he cared that he felt the bones.

He was two and his world was Obi-Wan and binary suns and desolate land.

Everything else was extraterritorial.

Town, any town was alien because there were people, _stranger_ everywhere. It was too much. Too loud.

It wasn't _his world_.

He would cling on Obi-Wan. both legs wrapped around Obi-Wan's waist, both arms around his neck. _Like a monkey,_ that's what Obi-Wan said. He would bury his sense in Obi-Wan, squeezing his eyes shut against Obi-Wan's chest. He would feel rumble deep in Obi-Wan's sternum as he conversed with strangers Luke didn't care to know.

And it was his world again because all he could sense were Obi-Wan and heat from scorching suns. And bones, because his curious hands would slip under the tunic to feel more of Obi-Wan when he was busy with whatever he wasn't doing and didn't bat away Luke's hands fast enough.

So when he was five and too heavy to be carried that way, bones were safe because bones meant Obi-Wan was with him, not some stranger.

But Luke was fourteen and bones also meant Obi-Wan was starving himself. Bones meant Obi-Wan made himself throw up when he ate. Bones meant Obi-Wan was killing himself.

He must have cried because his face was salty and Obi-Wan's tunic was wet. Because he was clutching the front of it and his hands seeked bones and shied away from them at the same time.

Because they meant he was safe _and _Obi-Wan was not. Obi-Wan wasn't safe from himself.

Burning ice, biting flame; that is how life began.

And that too would be how it ends.

Tatooine natives believed this. That their desert planet would end with winter, one Tatooine had never seen since the beginning of time.

Tatoo suns would be no more. Only frigid night after another.

Then it would rain until Tatooine drowned.

After that, fire. Sanctifying and burning hotter than Tatoo suns.

And there would be nothing left.

Nothing.

Now, the world was ending. It was so cold that frost hung in the air and covered every surface.

But Tatooine's heat was still oppressive.

It was just his world that was cold.

It was flooding. His own tears dripped and dripped to form an ocean. The world swam in its tide.

And the world was on fire. Burning brighter than life yet colder than snow, bluer than cloudless sky.

His world was breaking, torn from its seam. But the pieces were there waiting to be picked up and glued back as Obi-Wan was still here, still alive.

Obi-Wan…

Luke glanced up and realized; water that flooded the world wasn't from him alone.

AN

Burning ice, biting flame; that is how life /

I quote this from The Penguin Book of Norse Myths: Gods of the Vikings by Kevin Crossley-Holland. And Tatooine's belief on the end of the world is not canon. What I write here is based loosely on Norse's Ragnarok.


	10. Chapter 10

Tears slowed, and finally subsided. Luke came back from the world of misery to reality. Luke was aware of cool tiles against his legs, dampness on his face. He scrubbed them away.

_Such weakness._ He wasn't a toddler anymore. Why did he allowed himself to cry like one? _Boys don't cry. Men don't cry._ Strong. He had to be strong.

"Perhaps we should get ourselves clean up." _Obi-Wan._ In the gloom, silver moonlight from the ventilation slit painted his face sallow. Shadows catched in every creases, every wrinkles. He looked so old, so _defeated_. The dim lighting was just enough for Luke to catch the twin wet trails on his cheeks.

Luke himself didn't looked much better. His reflection in the wall-mounted mirror sniffled along with him, eyes puffy, face blotchy.

"Yeah, Alright."

Dry rain of sonic dripped from the shower, effective and dutiful as always.

_Is there such a thing to clean one's soul?_ Obi-Wan couldn't help wonder. If there was, he was in dire need of it.

_What had he done?_ The beast was supposed to be contained, its claws and bites inflicted only upon himself and no one else.

He switched off the shower. The hum that filled the air dissipated.

Better question yet: _What should he do?_

"Why?" Luke's golden hair glinted, an angel's halo framing his face, which Obi-Wan could not see. For Luke turned outward, beyond the oval pane of glass that seperated the home from the desert, to a stray bantha wandering about without a goal, without care for the world. "Why do this to yourself?

_Why indeed._

A deep roar of a Krayt dragon, one from the depth of Jundland Wastes, jolted the bantha. It darted wild, almost crashed into the nearby vaporator. The hairy hide propelled it forward, its simple mind cloudy with fear.

"See the bantha. It runs away from danger." Obi-Wan shifted to the left to get the better view of the creature. "Ah, what it perceives to be." Closer, Obi-Wan detected an annoyed frown in the reflective surface. Just get to the point.

"It stops," Luke said.

The bantha stood in its place, breathing heavily from exertion.

Obi-Wan rubbed his beard. "Why?"

Luke's lips thinned. "It realises the danger is not real."

Obi-Wan hummed. "But when danger originates from the mind itself, nothing tells it to stop."

The bantha continued on its pathless path. Its slow gait carried it toward the unknown.

"The mind becomes its worst enemy. And the body..." A long pause. "It does what it takes to survive. The physical pain is easier to bear than the mental one." _I paid the price to survive_.

"And you do just that. You're not living anymore. You're just surviving." Luke pressed his forehead to the cool surface. It bore a scent of glass cleaner.

"Yes. I have a good reason to survive. But the reason to live..." The chair creaked as Obi-Wan leant forward. "I have none."

"Find one then!" Luke growled at a small row of potted cacti. It was a wonder that spiny plants didn't wilt.

"I can't. I'm too far gone. I have let it live inside me for too long. It is a part of me. It becomes me. I don't know what I am without it," Obi-Wan answered.

"You're afraid to change."

"I am."

"You don't have to be. I have faith in you," Luke faced Obi-Wan. To let him see the truth in his eyes. Believe me.

_Oh, Luke. Your heart is in the right place. Don't concern yourself with a lost cause like me._ A flicker of fire ignited in the cavern of his heart. The tip of ice stalactite began to thaw and drip. _But how long could it stand in the storm?_ "I will be alright, I promise. I know what I am doing." _I think I do_. "I will be alive, as long as you need me to be."

A single sun in the sky. It would be half an hour at most before its twin joined for the journey across the sky.

What would my life be like without Obi-Wan? A curious question. Obi-Wan had been the bedrock of his life for as long as he could remember.

For the answer...

The Force was threads of life woven into a tapestry. The whole picture was too complex for any mind to comprehend. It binded worlds together. The thick thread of what is intertwined with the fader one of what was and millions spider silks of what might be.

Luke seeked for the most elusive of all: what could have been. The invisible thread didn't even belong to this universe. It belonged to other realm of time and space that shared the same past, present, or future. _Please let me see._

Suns. Vaporators. Homestead. His aunt and uncle. Stars. The dream of touching every one of them, to be the starpilot like his father. Droids. An old hermit on the edge of the Western Dune Sea.

The force allowed him that much before jerking him back to the thread he belonged to. The present.

_Hello, Luke Skywalker,_ he thought to himself in other life. _Nice to meet you._

The second sun was a sphere of orange fire at the horizon, ready to chase its twin across the sky. It rose along with heat. Small dampness danced across his forehead. It wouldn't be too long before temperature became unbearable and his skin got a nice red sunburn.

_Better hurry. The suns wait for no one._

Water yield was a lot lower than it should be, five percent more than before he changed the battery.

Green lights blinked him from the control panel signalling everything to be working fine. The cooling unit was set to optimal temperature. Solar cell wires were intact. New batteries were in their prime condition.

"What's your problem, huh?" He asked the troublesome machine.

It didn't reply, of course. Its binary brain didn't understand Basic.

A manual check later and Luke still couldn't identify the problematic part. He slided the mini toolkit back to his worn belt. He would discuss this to Obi-Wan, but he doubted they would found the solution. He would have to bring a droid with him tomorrow.

Frustration built at the thought. _Bantha fucker_. Worn boots grinded down hard at some poor squishy mushroom, leaving a gritty mush and some thick white stems.

"What a waste. You could make stew with them. They don't taste too bad."

"Really? What are you? Mushroom god?" his mouth lashed out before he noticed that he was supposed to be alone. _Oh dear._ He had heard that being alone in the desert could drive people insane. Hearing voice, seeing things, these were the first signs.

No. No. No. he refused to think that it would happen to him. _It was just a tale to keep children from wandering out alone._

A laughter, deep and rumbly. "No, just a friendly passerby. Have a problem with your vap?"

"A trespa-" Luke's eyes widened, refused to believe the sight before him. He rubbed his eye and squinted. _This is not good. Not good at all._

It was a man, alright. He was tall, a head taller than himself, with a roguish scar on his right eye that would have made him intimidating but for the crooked grin he wore.

_Thanks, brain. You forget to mention that he was blue._

Blue and translucent. A lifesize holovid. Except there was no holonet signal here in the middle of nowhere, and no holoprojector.

_Okay. Maybe I'm insane, just a little._

The blue stranger frowned. "Hey, you alright? You look a bit pale here."

"And you look a bit blue."

The man blinked at Luke's response then gave him a cocky smirk. "Oh, true."

Luke studied the man, a bit disturbed that he could see the world through the man like a stained glass. "Who-what are you?"

The blue man chewed the inside of his cheek "That's a difficult question. I am not entirely sure of that myself." He shrugged, his smirk returned. "A humble vaporator god, maybe. Fixing his believers' vap for free."

"Are you joking?"

"Partly." The man already turned to the vaporator, he walked-or should he say glided?-around its cylindrical body. "A GX-8. What's wrong with it?"

_Oh, I'm really getting crazy, too stressed out over Obi-Wan._ "Dunno. Just changed night batteries, old ones are like decades old. But that doesn't seem to work so far."

"Let's see." The man patted the metal casing, humming as he kneeled down before the control panel to get a better sight.

Luke mentally huffed in annoyance that the man had to kneel, when it was in perfect height for himself. _I will be tall. One day, just not today._

Same green blinking lights. "See? I can't find out what's wrong with it," Luke said.

The blue man pulled open an input unit and keyed in a long string of zeros and ones.

_He knows binary. Impressive_.

And he typed down some more commands before grinning like a loth cat. "You tell me what's wrong."

It was last night's stat, showing water yield, wind direction, temperature. Those only echoed what Luke already knew. The water yield was unreasonably low even if the core was working fine. "The vap works fine but somehow water is not extracted from the air at night."

The man shook his head. "That's not it. See this?" He pointed at the core temp, _18.3 degree celcius_, and then to outdoor temp, _18.6._

Luke visualised a glass of iced water in midday heat and tiny beads that would soon pooled around the bottom of the glass. The basic mechanism of a vaporator. "It needs the difference in temperature," he answered with a snap of his finger.

"Correct. You have to lower the core temp at night."

"Wow. That's easier to fix than I thought." Luke said.

The blue man nodded. "Everything is, once you know what's wrong with it."

The suns were almost on the zenith, blazing everything under their eyes to black ashes. Blistering heat started to burn Luke's skin. And Obi-Wan was probably waiting…

"I've got to go. I'm Luke Kenobi, by the way. What should I call you?"


End file.
